Insert Snappy Title Here
by PaperclipKiller
Summary: Stiles hated feeling useless but he didn't want the bite so he would have to get used to it. But after the rave he knew he could be. Dr. Deaton became his teacher and he hit the books, studying herbs and soon, magic, sworn to secrecy and keeping it hidden. But an accident shoves Stiles secret into the light. What'll happen then? Slight Scisaac. Sterek. Rated M for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my first fic within the fandom. I got a wild idea one time I was watching and episode, wrote it down and decided to leave it be because, well, I never thought I'd have free time to write it. But, less than a week later, I'm free and have nothing better to do. **

**This is just the beginning, there's more. But, like all my stories if the reviews are good I'll keep going, if not I'll delete it. So, this is the test run. **

**Something about this story: Stiles is a witch. He can do magic but nothing too extreme, he's human after all. This is also a pairing fic and it's gay, it's Sterek so if you don't like the whole pairing/slash/gay thing, turn and run. **

**Hope you enjoy it. **

* * *

Before Scott got turned into a werewolf Stiles had never been one for mythical creatures and magic protective dusts and mythical creature hunters. Excusing his love for online communities that involved mythical creatures Stiles had been a realist. There was nothing like aliens or the boogeyman or things that went bump in the night, simple as that. He had lived safely in that belief for years but, as soon as Scott got bit and everything went from normal to bat-shit crazy seemingly overnight Stiles suddenly found himself checking his locks at night and sleeping with the lights on.

Not that any of that would help any but, hey, whatever it took to get what little sleep he got at night.

Soon enough, after everything that had happened with Derek, crazy ass Peter, scared-out-of-her-mind Lydia and finally, Jackson, Stiles found himself feeling rather useless. Unable to stop anything that was coming. Sure, he had helped numerous times, saved people left and right, he even bragged about to so no one would know how he really felt.

That continued for a little while and he had almost gotten used to being Scott's wing-man - _almost -_ but then that thing happened. The mountain ash tree dust that Dr. Deaton had given him had started it all. He had stretched the dust somehow, used his mind to make it go further, and it had kept Erica and Isaac in and big, bad Derek out. He had been useful. He had a taste of something and whatever it was, he wanted more.

That night he had ran over and asked Dr. Deaton. How had he done that? How could he do again? How? How? _How?_ Dr. Deaton had answered all his questions, well, in his own way.

"The mind is a powerful thing Stiles," he had said with a serious look on his face. "And yours is exceptionally powerful."

"Then show me how to use it! I mean, I know how to use it but like that!"

"Stiles-"

"Please! I want to help and I have, I know, but not enough. I-I need to do that again, please."

Dr. Deaton agreed. Maybe out of pity, maybe just because but he agreed and started teaching him. Soon, Stiles was studying herbs and their individual uses, their properties and how they could be used against creatures like Derek and Scott and others like them. He also learned how to use them how to protect, heal, expel or draw something to him and soon after he learned potions. He hadn't take potions seriously at first because, well, it sounded like something out of Harry Potter. Dr. Deaton saw this as an insult and made him drink his first one. It made him sick for a week.

He never insulted the vet again.

But then Dr. Deaton threw something onto his lap that blew him out of the water.

"Spell work."

"Like, spelling?" Stiles flipped through the book with mild interest.

"No, spells."

"So you are turning me into a wizard?"

Dr. Deaton rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Witch. No such thing as a wizard."

"Alright, kick ass. Let's start."

And they did. Stiles wasn't allowed to tell anyone, of course. That part suited him fine. No one would care that he could charm objects to bring luck or to protect his dad while he was out. No one would mind that Stiles had his own of sensing people around him. Scott wouldn't care that he was out in the forest meditating and get 'in tune with the energies' as Dr. Deaton put it. Scott wouldn't notice that Stiles disappeared for a few hours each day. He also wouldn't mind if Stiles was lighting candles with his fucking _mind _or levitating off his floor or able to move objects without touching them.

No, no one would care and, if he could help it, no one would find out.

But his bad luck won out. One night Scott forgot his backpack at Derek's place and he was sent to retrieve it. Being a good friend Stiles thought nothing of it. It was a simple task; walk in, banter with Derek, grab bag, more banter, possibility of getting punched, leave. Easy. But no, his bad luck just had to push it a little further. Derek had to be pissed. Stiles just had to push too far.

Derek lunged, teeth bared and eyes aglow. Stiles, frightened, put his hand out. Suddenly, Derek was thrown across the room, slamming into the wall. He managed to stay upright, dust littering his shoulder, and he looked so shocked. He had been thrown and not doing the throwing. Stiles stared in awe at his hand and then Derek, back and forth, back and forth, his excitement growing more and more with each glance.

"How did you do that?" Derek said, looking Stiles directly in the eyes.

Stiles shivered. Derek had looked him in the eyes before but never like this. No, Derek's eyes seemed to bore into him, searching, wondering, questioning what exactly Stiles had just done. Stiles was almost scared that Derek would find something Stiles didn't want him to.

Stiles didn't answer of course. He was still amazed by what he had done, so much so that he just laughed and grinned like a kid who just won some sort of grand prize.

"Stiles!"

Stiles snapped back to reality with a, "What?"

"How did you do that?" Derek repeated the question, same deep voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Reality had this habit of hitting Stiles hard. He realized that he had been caught and his secret weapon had been uncovered. The cat was officially out of the bag.

"If I said nothing would you believe me?"

"No."

"Of course not."

Well, Stiles tried. Now would be a good time for Plan B but, seeing as he never planned something like this playing out, he didn't have one. So, he did the next best thing; he ran. He was in his car before Derek got to the front door. Derek was yelling something but Stiles couldn't hear him over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He tore away from the Hale manor before Derek had even left his porch.

He'd been caught and somehow, some way, Derek was going to corner him and interrogate him. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones. He could fucking _sense_ it. And it was going to happen very soon.

* * *

**Done. Please review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! I'm back! I can't believe how much feedback this story got. Not in reviews but in follows and favorites. 55 follows, 27 favorites, and 13 reviews is pretty good right? So, I decided to give it a try. I'll keep updating until the follows, favorites, or reviews stop. Reviews are appreciated though! I love them!**

**I never realized how hard it is to capture Stiles as a character. He's difficult. I'm trying to keep him as close to character as possible. If I fail, I'm sorry and just tell me. **

**Basic disclaimer saying that I don't own any characters in Teen Wolf and that I don't own the show. **

**Also, I mention Stiles mom in this chapter. No name is mentioned, no serious details are added and I honestly took a shot in the dark. Also, in this fic, she died when Stiles was very young. I don't know the actual truth but that's my story and I'm sticking to it! Don't kill me for it? Please? ALSO, the first chapter was a sort of a flashback. Basically, Stiles has been studying for a little while before the whole Derek thing happened. So, the second chapter picks up about the time that Allison's mom dies and Allison seeks revenge. **

**I'm pretty sure you guys know the timeline. **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Stiles was freaking out. He hated speed limits and the drive from Derek's house to Dr. Deaton's office was nerve-racking! He messily pulled into the parking lot, shut his jeep down, ran inside and bust open the door. Dr. Deaton looked up, worried and shocked and he barely got a word out before Stiles spilled the whole story in less than two minutes.

"Calm down Stiles! What exactly happened?" Dr. Deaton wasn't as mad as Stiles had thought. He had actually taken the news of Stiles completely blowing secrecy out of the water pretty well.

Stiles took a deep breath. He took a seat in one of the chairs, shaking and nervous, and took a moment to lift his head and look at the veterinarian standing, arms crossed, at the other side of the room. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves.

"I was at Derek's picking up Scott's backpack, right? Scott's a good friend but he can't keep track of his stuff. So I went over, picked up his backpack and Derek did his ninja appear-out-of-nowhere shit. It startled me, like usual, and you know me! I get scared or something and I'm-"

"A sarcastic asshole?" Dr. Deaton suggested with an amused tone.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man. "Yes."

"So you made him mad?"

"It's Derek! His patience meter is always on low, especially with me! And, you know, he doesn't have the greatest sense of humor either."

"And he lunged at you?" Dr. Deaton asked, one eyebrow raised.

Stiles nodded, swallowing hard. "I put out my hand to hopefully defend myself and the next thing I know Derek is thrown across the room. He lands against a wall and hes fine but he asked. He wanted to know how I had done that. I tried to play it off but it wouldn't happen. You told me not to show off or tell anyone! I ran."

Dr. Deaton looked him up and down before sighing. He closes his eyes, rubbing his temples. "This isn't as bad as it could be. In fact, Derek is the least of our problems."

Stiles was confused. Here he was freaking out about getting yelled at for having someone see him practice or something and when someone finally had seen him it was the least of their problems? "What?"

"Stiles, I'm going to be honest with you," Dr. Deaton says slowly. "You shouldn't be able to do half the things you're able to. I know herbs and how to use them. I know of spells but I can't do them. The last few weeks has been all you."

Stiles's jaw went slack. "What? You're serious?"

Dr. Deaton nodded.

Stiles smiled. He felt awesome! He did something no one else could do? Hells yeah! Nothing in this world could touch him right now. Only, it could. Sure, he was more powerful than he thought, he was more powerful than even Dr. Deaton had realized, but he knew that with great power came great responsibility. The things he did weren't exactly something you came across often. It'd would have been a secret, it was _supposed_ to be a secret but now Derek knew. What was he supposed to do?

"Someone in your family must of have been magically inclined," Dr. Deaton said. Stiles couldn't help but snort.

"Really? My dad isn't exactly Dumbledore."

"What about your mother?" Dr. Deaton asked.

Stiles stops at that, frowning. He didn't know. It had been so long ago that he barely remembered his mothers face. "I didn't think of that," he says, not looking at the vet.

Dr. Deaton shrugged, making a dismissing wave with his hand. "It's just a thought Stiles," Dr. Deaton says, "Magic can be carried through generations, unseen for years before it finally shows up again."

"Right, so what does this mean?" Stiles asks, looking at Scott's backpack laying at his feet.

"For me, it means that I'll have to keep a better eye on you. For you, it means keeping your powers in check until you learn to control them more."

_Right_, Stiles thought to himself, _because that'll be easy for a hormonal teenager who runs for his life on a daily basis._

* * *

Stiles was sitting in his dads office, eating dinner from a local burger place. The sheriff sat across from him, on the opposite side of the desk, eating as well while flipping through paper that lay strewn over his desk. Stiles chewed slowly, not really tasting the food. His mind kept wandering back to the night before with Dr. Deaton. What about his mother? His father never really talked about her, there were hardly any pictures of her, and he never met his grandparents on that side of the family.

Actually, most of his mothers life was shrouded by Stiles dad.

He swallows, looking toward his dad. His father doesn't notice him staring.

"Dad?"

"Yes Stiles?"

Stiles hesitates. He had never really asked about his mother. Sure, he had been to her grave, he had asked about her as a kid, and his dad had told him stories but he had never really asked about her or what she was like. His dad looks up at him. "Stiles?"

"Dad, I have questions about mom."

The sheriff sighed, putting down his food and his papers. "Alright," he says, "What do you want to know?"

Stiles bites his lip, hesitating again. Talking about his mom made his father sad, depressive, and it made him drink more. Stiles didn't want to upset his dad. "We don't have to-"

"No, come on. I can handle it."

"Alright," Stiles set down his food and looks at his dad very seriously, staring him right in the eyes. "What was she like? What was she into?"

He dad sighs, smiling wistfully. Stiles recognized that look. That look said there'd be an extra bottle of whiskey in the house this weekend, that look said that he'd be working late all week and possibly next to get his mind off things, that look said also showed how much his father was still in love with her. When ever his dad thought about Stile's mom his guard was down.

"She was beautiful Stiles, she really was. Inside and out, she was everything I wasn't," his father started. "She waltzed into my life and when I first met her there was just something about her. She was electric. She had this power to her..."

Stiles felt his chest tighten. This was his mother. This woman, this one person who Stiles barely remembered, had so much power over his father that even after death she haunted him.

"She could stop a whole room by just opening the door."

"Did she have anything weird that she didn't tell you about? Like, did she seem to do things that weren't what you'd call usual?"

His father stops, looking at him with a confused look. It was subtle but Stiles could see a flicker of something in his dads eye, like a realization. For a moment his guards go back up. "Why exactly are you asking about this?"

"Just curious," Stiles said, trying to act cool.

His father sighs, leaning back in his chair. He deflates, guards down once more, and he looks at Stiles with a look that speaks volumes. Stiles tenses. His dad is about to say something he's _never _told him before. Stiles, even though he hadn't really wanted to, had struck gold. "Your mother could do things no person I had ever met could do. She could feel things, peoples emotions and maybe more. She'd have dreams about future events. She knew about you before you were even born."

Stiles was speechless and, somewhere deep in his gut, hurt. "You never told me-"

"She didn't want me to tell you unless you brought it up," his father admitted, frowning. "She told me that you'd be safer in ignorance but, she also told me that you'd never have a normal life. That it'd be filled with things that were dark and dangerous and that'd you'd..." His dad paused, obviously not trusting his voice.

And Stiles didn't trust his either. He tightened his fists. He felt sick.

"She told me that you'd be like her. More powerful even."

"What does that mean?"

His father shrugged, not looking up, not at Stiles. "I don't know Stiles, I wish I knew," Mr. Stilinski says, his voice low. He looks up, looking Stiles right in the face. His father looks so hurt. So very hurt. Stiles wants to jump up and hug him, tell his dad he loves him but he doesn't. He'd wait until his father was done. "She loved you. You look so much like her and honestly, I'm not surprised that you'd take after her."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Stiles realizes something else. His mother knew stuff about him, about his life, before he was even born. What if she told his father? "You knew, all of it, this whole time, didn't you?"

His father smiles, weakly, but it's genuine. "No idea what you're talking about."

Stiles couldn't help but smile back.

* * *

Stiles grabbed his keys from his pocket as he headed to his jeep. He still had to stop by Scott's house to drop off his backpack for school tomorrow. His jeep was just outside the station and for some reason he just felt unnerved. He didn't feel safe. Like he was being watched.

_It's nothing_, he thought to himself as he walked out the front door of the station. He checked his phone. It was nearly nine which wasn't too late. Scott's mom wouldn't mind if he stopped by to drop off something.

He reached his jeep with no problem and began to unlock the door just as someone grabbed his shoulders and flipped him around before slamming into him into said door. It was Derek. Big surprise there.

"We really need to stop meeting like this," Stiles let out. Derek scowled but what else was new? Derek's patience with Stiles was about as thin as tissue paper.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Derek said, growling. Stiles felt his stomach tighten. He didn't like the sound of this.

* * *

**Second chapter. Here you go. Tell me what you think. Tell me if I'm getting too OOC or if this just sucks. I really want to know! I love feedback. PLEASE REVIEW! I want feedback! **

**Till next time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I feel less than happy with this chapter but I'll post it anyway. I also decided that the first two chapters takes a little bit before the season 2 finale and this chapter is maybe a few weeks after the final, heading somewhere into the third season. So, this chapter is a few weeks after Derek and Stiles earlier run-in. **

**The Alpha pack will be included but something else might be thrown in, just for fun. **

**Hopefully, enough people are reading this and actually care. Anyway, thank you for reading so far and leaving comments! They're truly appreciated. **

**Enjoy.**

**Lame disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, any of the cannon characters, and I only own OC's added in later and the plot. **

* * *

Stiles sat in the passenger seat of his jeep, Derek in the driver seat. The radio wasn't on so the drive was surrounded by a type of awkward, heavy silence that Stiles was too afraid to break. Derek was tense, holding the steering wheel with white knuckles, and eyes focused on the road. Every time a car passed his eyes lit up like a flashlight. Stiles looked out the window.

He reasoned with himself. It wasn't his fault. Derek was the one who pushed him to reacting, damn brooding bastard. Derek was always angry and in Derek's presence Stiles was either being sarcastic or being slammed against something. Besides, Stiles wouldn't have had a problem of taking the secret to his grave but _no_, Stiles can't have anything to himself.

"So, how long have you been using magic?"

Derek's voice pried Stiles attention from the passing trees and made him look to the hijacker of his vehicle. "How long are you planning on keeping me? I do have school tomorrow and my dad will know-"

"Just answer the question Stiles," he snaps, completely cutting Stiles off. He wasn't in the mood for Stiles shenanigans, like usual. Stiles snorts.

"A few weeks," Stiles admits.

"And what have you covered?"

That was an odd question. "Your mom-"

Derek looked over, glaring. Stiles's words died in his throat. Derek looked back to the road and huffed, still expecting an answer. Derek hit the gas and drove even faster then he already was.

Stiles sifts through his words, planning his next move but it was harder than usual. Normally Stiles was on the ball, making smart-ass comments left and right but things had changed since the beginning of this whole werewolf thing. With Derek Stiles had learned to push but not push too hard. Back when Stiles had thought all this was cool that was guideline, easily bent, but as time progressed it became more of a rule.

He had learned to make his sarcasm mild.

"What have you covered?"

"Charms, meditation, aura reading, herbs and potions," Stiles mutters, glancing out the window for a split second. "Dabbled into some spells..."

Derek says nothing, obviously listening to Stiles heart rate. Stiles had learned to tell whether or not they were listening. A tingle of annoyance ran through his system. He didn't enjoy when they thought he was lying.

"What else?"

Derek's eyes flicked over to him and Stiles caught them. Stiles heart skipped a beat, looking away. "I can move stuff without touching it. I can feel people nearby. That's it."

Derek says nothing more. Stiles looks down at his lap. So, a lot of things had changed about Stiles since this whole werewolf fiasco, more notably his feelings towards certain individuals. Since Stiles had laid eyes on Derek he'd felt uncomfortable and not the sort of 'he's going to beat the living shit out of me' uncomfortable. The way Derek stared at him, the way he spoke to Stiles, and they way he got too close for comfort just turned Stiles stomach upside-down.

By the time Stiles looked back up they were in front of Stiles home.

Derek turns off the engine and relaxes into the drivers seat with a sigh, looking out the driver side window. Stiles waited. He waited for Derek to say something, yell, or slam his head into the dash but none of that happened. He just sat there. Stiles was about to open his mouth when Derek started talking.

"Stiles," Derek began, his voice calm. "Magic is powerful. It can do a lot of things, wonderful things, but it can also do horrible things. It can kill people. It can kill _you_."

Hold the fuck up. Was Derek _fucking _Hale concerned for him? Stiles was speechless. His brain fucking hit the brakes and left him fucking stranded. "What?"

Derek sighed, angry, not wanting to explain himself. "Just promise me you won't use your magic for personal gain. Nothing that could potentially be...harmful. Alright?"

"Personal gain. Like money?"

"Love, money, fame, anything like that," Derek answers, looking over to him.

Stiles nods. "You got it boss, no money raining from skies."

Derek didn't seem too pleased but Stiles knew that Derek knew that that answer was the best he could get. And Stiles meant it. If Derek, Fort Knox of Emotions and King of Angst Land was worried, something was up. Stiles moved to open his door and get out. Derek grabbed Stiles left wrist making Stiles jump and turn to him. Derek had moved closer.

Stiles heart pounded hard against his ribs.

"Promise me Stiles," was all Derek said.

"I promise."

And with that Derek withdrew his hand and got out of the jeep. By the time Stiles retrieved his keys, got out, and around to the other side of the jeep Derek was gone.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later..._

* * *

"So, you and Allison?"

"Done, as far as I'm concerned," Scott let out with a huff. "She broke up with me after the whole thing with Gerard."

Stiles snorted, toying with his food. "She's emotionally compromised. Her aunt is dead, her mom is dead, her grandfather tried to kill-"

"I get it Stiles," Scott interrupts, voice on edge.

"Sorry."

Scott and him eat in silence for a few moments, having nothing really to talk about, before finally Scott starts to talk once more. "Maybe it's for the best?" He asks, as if seeking assurance.

Stiles looks at him, pondering what he should say. Stiles was no good with relationships. Before he realized he swung for the other team he could barely get the girl of his dreams to look at him. "I...don't know," he starts but adds on, "Maybe. I mean, with you neck deep in dog fur and her training to be a hunter it might be a good idea to just call it even and be friends."

Scott nods, taking another bite of his food, sighing. He was bummed, Stiles could see that much. It was obvious. Allison had been Scott's everything and with her running off with Daddy Argent to become a powerful leader for the hunters Scott was nothing short of tore up.

"You could uh, start looking for another anchor?" Stiles suggests. Scott looks up, his eyes sad and unbelieving.

"Who?" Scott asks.

"I don't know!" Stiles says quite dramatically. "I don't know your type."

Scott looks at Stiles, a smirk playing at his lips, and then looks down at his food. "Well, I could look..."

Stiles smiles. "Yeah, looking is good! Looking is great! And, looking doesn't mean touching so if Allison decides to raise the white flag again you and her can start fresh."

"I suppose," Scott says with a chuckle.

* * *

School ended just like every other day and since Scott had work after school at Dr. Deaton's office Stiles had no one riding in his jeep with him. Or, at least that's what he thought. As soon as he reached into his bag for his keys to unlock his car a black Chevy Camaro pulls up beside him. The window is already down when he turns.

Stiles, being less than happy to be bothered _yet again_, sighs and leans down looking straight at the driver. There he is, dark and straight faced, sunglasses on like the bad-ass he is. Honestly, Stiles wonders why he expects anything different. He always looks good, always, and Stiles wants to kick himself in the ass for even thinking that Derek Hale has days where he doesn't look good.

"What do you want Sour Wolf? I got homework."

"Get in the car."

"Why? I promised you that I wouldn't do anything dangerous so-"

"Stiles," Derek snaps, "get in, _please_."

Please comes out of his mouth like something slimy that stuck to his tongue. Slow, stinky, and uncomfortable. Derek never said please, in fact, Stiles was pretty sure Derek made it very clear on a daily basis that he didn't have manners. Stiles snorts and gets in, settling into the low vehicle that he wasn't used to being in. He throws his backpack into the back less than gracefully and looks over to Derek, trying to glare.

Derek stares back before looking away with, "You look constipated when you make that face."

Stiles rolls his eyes, unimpressed. "Where are we going?"

"Woods."

"Why?" Stiles asks, not impressed by the answer given.

"You'll see."

* * *

**Another chapter. Please review. Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's another chapter. I hope you like it and I hope you guys like this story. To be honest, I'm flying by the seam of my pants here. But, there is a plot and it will come up very soon, I swear, I mean, there's development with Derek and Stiles if you can see it. Stiles already likes him so it won't be long. **

**Anyway, here you go.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters from the original series.**

* * *

They pulled up in front of Derek's house only a few minutes later considering Derek apparently hated following the speed limit. Stiles stepped out, not bothering to get his backpack. Derek got out as well, throwing his sunglasses casually back into his car, and stood there on the other side of the car.

"What _exactly_ are we doing here?" Stiles asked, looking to Derek.

"What? I can't just pick you up and want to talk?"

"No, you can't."

Derek frowns. "Why?"

"Because, you _never_ do that Derek," Stiles says, voice filled with anger. He wanted to add _not to me_ on the end of that but resisted.

Derek narrows his eyes and moves around the front of the car to stand maybe two feet away from Stiles. Stiles stands his ground despite the fact that every part of his body is screaming that hes going to get hit or slammed against something. Derek can obviously tell that Stiles is bothered because he laughs.

"I want to see what you can do," Derek says, shrugging as if his statement makes everything better. "I want to know whether or not I can use you without you getting hurt."

For some reason that pissed Stiles off. He had always wanted to be apart of the group, he always wanted to do _something, _always wanted to be more than just Robin to everyone's Batman but the way Derek said was just insulting!

"Oh, so what? Now that I have powers to defend myself you're interested?" Stiles asks, offended.

Derek's eyes widen, not in surprise though. He stays silent. Stiles only gets more upset.

"Well? I mean, a few weeks ago you never wanted me around and now you want me to come running through the woods with you?"

"Stiles," Derek lets out, "I've always been interested but you wouldn't take the bite."

Stiles freezes. Derek's always been interested in him? Stiles feels his cheeks heat up and he looks away. He hears Derek chuckles and he's pretty sure that it's because he can hear Stiles's heart beating in his chest.

"So, what all can you do?"

"I told you yesterday-"

"No, I want to see it."

"See it-?"

"Yes, see it."

Stiles wants to make a comment but won't. "So, how do I show you?"

Derek looks around. He points to random plank of burnt wood, looking back to Stiles. "Make that float or something."

_Or something. _Perfect. Stiles pulls his frayed emotions in and calms himself, breathing deep and slow. Stiles sees the piece of wood and exhales, opening his hands. He feels his powers coiling up inside of him, rising up through his chest. His throat feels tight and his body is relaxed, his breathing is still deep. He closes his eyes but he can still see. All around he can feel the woods, see the trees, he feels Derek nearby.

He opens his eyes and he knows that they're black. He's looked in the mirror, he's seen it numerous times. He hears Derek draw his breath in at the sight but Stiles isn't sure whether or not its from disgust or interest.

The plank rises and once Stiles has it at a height that he sees fit he raises his arm and with a flick of his wrist the plank goes into a nearby tree, shattering into wooden splinters with a loud crack.

Derek stays silent for a few moments and looks over to where the plank was broken. He whistles, almost mockingly. He turns to Stiles.

"I like it," Derek says. Stiles places the tone something close to 'I like it, I'll take it.' Like he was buying Stiles at a store. "I'd like to see what else you can do."

"I don't know what else I can do. I've never been tested."

"So you want to be tested?" Derek asks, one eyebrow shooting up.

"I didn't-"

"Alright," Derek cuts him off, "_I _will test you. Personally."

Stiles didn't like the sound of this and with good reason.

The next month was filled with throwing planks, levitating Derek's Camaro or his jeep, pushing his limits, learning to use his powers to block attacks or thrown objects. They spent countless hours together, sparring, running through the woods, and extending Stiles's abilities. By the end of the month he could lift heavy objects with ease, run _through the air_, stop things with a flick of his wrist, and even help other people by throwing them through the air. He found out he could heal himself too.

Everything that Dr. Deaton wouldn't allow him to try Derek was more than willing to do and Stiles was fine with that. He was fine with Derek helping him now that they fell into a rhythm and gotten used to working with each other. (Not saying that they hadn't before but now they were working under better circumstances and things worked a lot smoother.) Stiles could even say that he and Derek had bonded.

Dr. Deaton had warned him that over doing things could hurt him but nothing negative had shown so far.

By the end of most days Stiles was tired and fell asleep on Derek's porch or drove home before crashing but sometimes, on days when Derek went easy on him, he'd hang around a little while to torment the werewolf. Derek was tormented him on a daily basis, it was only fair that Stiles got to do it back.

There was this one particular easy day, one that Stiles would never be willing to admit to anyone, was one of those easy days where he stayed behind. He and Derek were panting, sitting on the broken down porch of his burnt up home, laughing because Stiles had managed to say hi to the ground with his face more than once that day.

"Hey, me and the ground are bros!" Stiles argued, shaking his finger at Derek. Derek looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a small, amused smile on his face. Stiles was smiling too despite his body aching. He looked over Derek with a friendly gaze, eyes twinkling, and saw how good Derek looked. He was sweat and dirt covered, some spots over his well toned body were smudged with dirt but it fit him. Right now, he looked better than he would have clean.

Stiles actually doesn't mind seeing Derek like this. Hell, he'd keep this crazy training up if it meant he'd see more of this.

Then Derek had to move, quick and controlled, almost fluid and laid back on the porch exposing his well sculpted stomach and chest for the world and Stiles to see. Stiles had to resist staring.

"Same time tomorrow good for you?" Derek asks, not looking at Stiles.

Stile nods, turning to face him. "Yeah, that's fine..."

And in that moment Stiles had two choices. Leave or stay. He chose to linger, taking the neutral route. He'd stick around just long enough to annoy Derek then leave like he normally did. But, today was different. He made a mistake, he crossed a line when his hand reached out and traced the line of muscle right before it disappeared into Derek's tight jeans. Derek jerked, his body instantly tense and upright and Stiles yanked his hand away just as fast.

Derek didn't look mad but when he opened his mouth to speak Stiles stood so fast he got dizzy. Derek called after him but Stiles ignored it and got into his jeep. He did wrong, he knew, but he'd face Derek's hard gaze and berating words tomorrow at training.

He didn't need it now. He couldn't handle it right now. Especially not with his cheeks this red and his pants this tight.

* * *

The next day, a weekend when Stiles didn't have school and had to be there early, Stiles found himself debating on going. He sat in his jeep in front of his house for a good ten minutes before turning on the engine. It was early in the morning and the woods were foggy and dark when Stiles pulled up to Derek's home. He stepped out only to be met with a howl. It wasn't one of anger or a call but a one the screamed hurt and pain and Stiles recognized it as Isaac's.

Stiles bolted into the house, turning into the living room only to be met with Isaac, on the couch bleeding out of his side with Scott and Derek standing over him with worried expressions. They both looked over to him, growling, only to stop at the sight of their friend and ally.

"What the hell happened?" was the first thing out of Stiles's mouth.

"He got shot on the way over here," Scott's voice was laced with a type of worry Stiles couldn't pinpoint at the moment. "It looks like wolfsbane and without a matching bullet..." Scott trailed off, looking at Stiles, his big brown eyes looking lost and hurt.

Why could he say it? What had Stiles missed in the last month? Had hanging out with Derek really turned Stiles away from his own best friend? Stiles stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot and he couldn't swallow right.

Isaac whimpered, eyes screwed shut. He grabs his side and arches in pain, gritting his teeth. His face was red. Derek twitches at the sound. Scott looks even more undone. Stiles looks at Isaac; he was sweating, veins in his neck popping, and his fangs were starting to show. Isaac's eyes open for just a second, making contact with Stiles for just a moment and in that one look Stiles saw pain and genuine fear.

It shook Stiles to his core. Isaac was going to die and there was nothing he could do without exposing his powers to Scott.

_Fuck._

* * *

**Please review and comment and what not. Hope you like it. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's another chapter. I hope you like it and I hope you guys like this story. **

**Hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters from the original series.**

* * *

Derek moved quickly, pulling Stiles into the other room by his arm. Stiles followed but was still staring at Isaac's bleeding side until he couldn't see it anymore. That didn't stop the huffing and gasps of pain though. Nothing stopped Stiles from hearing Isaac crying out because he was being dying, slowly and painfully.

Derek turned him, so they were face to face, staring intently at each other. One side was panic, confusion, uncertainty and fear while the other was calmer, still, with an underlying show of genuine care and worry. Derek shook him, Stiles had no idea why. Maybe it was because Derek wanted Stiles to pay attention, to jar him back to reality so Stiles would listen to him.

"Fix him," Derek whispers, his face stern. "I know you can."

Stiles looks at Derek for a moment. His lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes wide, intent, staring right at Stiles. He wasn't forceful or angry but he wasn't calm either but Stiles saw fear and worry and so much care Stiles nearly whimpered.

"I can't," Stiles whispers back harshly. "You know that!"

"I know but right now is one of those times where rules are meant to be broken," Derek argues, his tight hold getting slightly tighter.

"I can't-"

"I can't lose Isaac too!" Derek snaps.

Stiles doesn't dare say anything. Derek's eyes had flashed red and were staring at him, hopeful, wishing for Stiles to say something. Stiles could see what Derek expected of him in those red eyes and somewhere deep inside Stiles he felt something shift. The world tilted and suddenly his face was red. Derek was trusting him, begging him, to save his pack and his brother. This was something that no one had ever seen from Derek, except maybe his family and they definitely weren't around to talk about it.

Derek's still silent, not moving nor speaking, his eyes scanning Stiles's face for a sign, any sign, and Stiles feels as if he owes him an explanation.

"I'll do it," Stiles say finally.

Derek exhales heavily, his head falling forward in relief as if he'd been holding a weight with it the whole time, and his shoulder drop. His hands loosen their grip of Stiles's arms. "Thank you," Derek whispers, sounding like he just got back from a run. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet."

Stiles moves away from Derek, walking back into the living room where Isaac was currently bleeding out and walked over to them. Scott looked confused and instantly turned to Derek who was right beside him, right _behind _Stiles. "What's going on?"

"Stiles is going to..." Derek pauses, trying to chose his words. "He's going to ease Isaac's pain."

Scott obviously took that the wrong way. "We're going to let him die?"

The emotion that came from that statement made Stiles's throat tight. What was going between Isaac and Scott that caused him to care this much? Yes, Stiles knew about the pack mentality and the connection they all shared but that could not cause Scott to care _that_ much.

Stiles turns to explain but stops himself, turning back, deciding it was now or never. He pressed his hand to Isaac's side, sending energy into the wound. He found the bullet almost immediately, pulling it from his body. It was slow and Isaac yelled and his face scrunched together in pain. His ears were pointed too. Stiles wondered if Isaac would jump him and maul him because of the pain he was going through.

But Isaac didn't move. He just looked at Stiles, eyes focused on him and what he was doing. They were filled with fear and confusion and longing. Where the longing was directed? Stiles wasn't sure. Longing for the pain to end? For life? To just make it all stop? He didn't bother to ponder on it too much. The bullet was out and Stiles threw it to the ground. As soon as it the floor Scott made a noise, like he wanted to ask, but neglected to go any farther. Stiles pressed his hand back.

The bullet wasn't the problem, the wolfsbane was. If Stiles didn't get that out Isaac would die even if he body somehow managed to heal.

It comes out as a black sludge, something close to the consistency of oil, and gathered on Stiles's hand. It spread over his palm and his fingers, coating them and making them sticky. Beneath him Isaac drew a breath, the first steady one that he'd taken in the few moments Stiles had seen him, and sighed. He relaxed, closing his eyes. Scott whimpered behind him.

"Someone get me a rag or something," Stiles says, looking at his hand.

Derek disappears and Scott stays, looking unsure. He doesn't ask or acknowledge Stiles, he just stares at Isaac looking more concerned then before. Stiles stands, still looking at his hand until something - a towel - is blocking his vision. Derek had thrown over his face. How nice of him.

"He'll be okay?" Derek asks, not even allowing Stiles time to wipe his hand clean.

Stiles pull the towel from his face and starts cleaning his hand. "Yes," Stiles admits, tired. "I think."

He felt dizzy but he didn't say anything. Scott let out a even breath. He was fine again, Stiles could tell. Scott looks to him now, dark eyes swirling with questions he wanted to ask and Stiles could feel that he would have if Isaac hadn't sat up. Scott's attention instantly snapped to the other, eyes scanning over him in worry to make sure Isaac was unscathed and actually alive. Stiles found himself doing the same.

Isaac looks to Stiles. "How-?"

"Not now. Who did this?" Derek cuts Isaac off, his steady tone back. He sounded mad and Stiles knew he had a reason to be.

"Hunters," Scott answers, looking to Derek just for a second before his eyes are back on Isaac. "Right?"

"You're not sure?" Derek asks, sounding even more angered. Scott needed to learn how to get his facts straight with Derek. Derek hated chasing answers, much less chasing anything he wanted. Stiles frowned at the thought when it made his cheeks heat up a bit.

Isaac looks unsure. "They...didn't seem like normal hunters. The one that shot me pulled a different gun to shoot like he originally thought I was something else. They had symbols on their clothes too, like stars and stuff."

Stiles instantly pays attention. "What kind of stars?" he asks. He knows Derek and Scott are looking at him now but then again so was Isaac. What was two other pairs of eyes?

"A pentagram, maybe," Isaac admits, looking confused by Stiles's question.

"Right side up? Upside down? Or with a sword down the middle?"

"Sword," Isaac answers. "Why?"

Stiles bites his lip. "No reason," he says, lying.

Scott raises an eyebrow and then it ripples through the other two, Derek then Isaac, all with their own unique but genuinely confused and intrigued expressions. If Stiles was going to make a joke he'd say they all looked like cute little puppies but he keeps it to himself.

"I gotta go," Stiles says, instantly turning to leave.

"Stiles," Scott calls, "Be careful."

"Already planning on it."

* * *

Stiles returned home to an empty house, nothing unusual there, and ran up to his room. He threw open his door, tossed his backpack onto his bed, and slid in front of his desk. Opening on of the drawers he pulls the book Dr. Deaton had given him and lays it on the desk. He opens it, skimming through the pages before coming across the symbols section.

He remembered most of them because Dr. Deaton wanted him to understand the importance of symbols. Not only for himself but for the pack as well. Symbols meant things and when you knew what those things were it could help in the long run and prove powerful.

Stiles searched, looking through ever star affiliated or star shaped symbol until he came across the one he just knew was the one Isaac saw. He bit his lip once more, feeling his heart drop into his stomach.

_Pentagram with a Sword: Common symbol of witch hunters._

Leaning back into his chair he let out a shaky sigh and, even though he didn't want to, wondered how the hell he was supposed to tell Derek.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry I haven't updated in forever. Works been nothing short of a disaster and I've had little to no time to get anything done. But, here goes nothing.**

**Shitty disclaimer is shitty: I don't own Teen Wolf, any of the characters that are involved in the actual show, and the only thing I do own is the story line, plot, and well, the OC's that will most likely show up later on.**

* * *

The next week had been quiet. Stiles didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse at this point because right now, as he sits cross-legged in the middle of the woods, back straight, breathing so calm and slow it almost seems like he isn't breathing at all, Stiles finds himself panicking. His energy is all over the place, uncontrollable, agitated and no matter how much Stiles tries to just sit and calm down, no matter how much Adderall he takes, and no matter how long he just sits and tries to find comfort in the sounds of the woods and the energy of the Earth inside he's screaming, kicking himself because Stiles knew that this was all wrong. Stiles couldn't have anything nice. Ever. Everything he touched died, got angry, ran away or fucked up beyond repair and he couldn't believe he had thought this would be any different.

He opens his eyes, lets himself unwind from the position he's in and let's his feet find the ground. His energy releases him and he's standing now, not floating like before, and sighs. Stiles kept asking the woods like Dr. Deaton had told him to, like the books had said, and the woods, the Earth itself, kept repeating the same thing over and over and over again like a mantra.

_You already have the answer..._

"No, I don't," Stiles says back, angry. His eyes go black and his energy spikes. But the woods weren't intimidated, neither was the Earth. The Earth was never intimidated because, supposedly, that's where his powers came from. The books said that witches were born a long time ago, given the power to heal and protect because of an ancient willow tree. But, then again, the book also said all night creatures were born from willows. The willows were trees associated with the moon, with wisdom and strength and power and rebirth. "I don't have the answer! That's why I'm asking."

"Who are you yelling at?"

Stiles turns, shocked that someone was actually there without him sensing it. It was odd now, getting snuck up on.

Derek was there and Stiles found himself rather embarrassed. "The trees," he admits, knowing it sounded stupid. "They uh...they're not answering me..."

"The trees aren't answering you?" Derek asks, his voice almost mocking.

Stiles presses his lips together and huffs. "Look, if you're here to just mock me-"

"I'm not, I just didn't expect to find you yelling at inanimate objects," Derek says, looking over Stiles.

"Whoa, hold up. Inanimate objects?" Stiles asks. Derek kind of shrugs, obviously feeling as if he doesn't need to explain himself. "These trees aren't inanimate. They hear things, know things, tell stories and answer questions. They're far from inanimate. They're alive."

Derek doesn't seem too impressed nor does he say anything so Stiles takes it as a window to add, "You know how you explain to Scott and the others that the moon speaks to you. Tells you when something's coming, when things are changing? How when the moon rises you can hear it, feel it?"

"Yes," Derek admits with a frown. Stiles frowns as well because he knew what Derek was expecting. He was expecting a joke, a sarcastic comment about how Derek could shove his wolf powers where the sun down shine-and better yet, his whole head could go with it-but Stiles wasn't joking, was setting up for a witty comment and the fact that was what Derek expected, after all this, made him angry.

"Well, you have your moon and I have my trees, okay? In fact, I'm amazed you can't hear them. They talk about you often enough," Stiles says, turning and planning to walk off. He was going to leave it there, just like that. But Derek's hand is suddenly on his shoulder and Derek turns him so that Stiles is looking at him, a confused expression laying over those sharp, angry but oh-so-perfect features. Stiles almost admits it looks good for Derek have another expression beside scowling but he keeps his mouth shut.

"What do they talk about?" Derek asks.

Stiles hadn't expected that and honestly, it makes him rethink this whole thing. He almost regrets saying it. "Lots of things," Stiles says, before adding. "How you and Laura used to sneak out and go hunting. How the fire..." Stiles stops because not only do the trees talk about it, they show him. Bits and pieces, enough for him to draw a sketchy picture in his minds eye. Derek is tense. Stiles can feel it. He should stop but he doesn't. "How you come out sometimes and howl, hoping to hear someone return it...someone besides Scott or Isaac. Someone who's family."

Derek pulls his hand back and Stiles feels guilty, he wants to say sorry, tell Derek that he didn't mean it. He didn't want to know those things. No, the trees showed him things they wanted him to see, not the things he wanted to see. That's not how things worked. The trees were old, knowing, and Stiles knew better than to argue with them. Last time he did they had shut him out for weeks.

"How...?"

"I told you, they're alive. Everything is," Stiles says, shrugging. "Everything is alive and everything is connected in one giant web that just...fits. And they know that."

"The trees?"

"Not just them," Stiles lets out, not bothering to elaborate. He needed a subject change. "What are you doing here?"

"What?"

"Funny how the tables have turned, isn't it, Sour Wolf?" Stile jabs before continuing with, "I came out here to be alone. Why are you, who wasn't invited, doing here?"

Derek draws a deep breath and looks down at the ground, searching. Maybe he was asking the trees because God, Derek looked lost. He finally looks back up and he looks like his been whipped, brought down a notch, and put back in whatever place he originally belonged in. "I came to thank you," Derek says finally.

Stiles feels his eyes widen. "What? You're...wait, you're thanking me?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Derek challenges. Okay, so maybe he hadn't been put in his place but this was completely new for Derek. He never thanked anyone. Ever. "You saved Isaac, my pack, when I couldn't. That's worthy of appreciation."

Stiles bites his lip and nods. "Uh, welcome, I guess."

Derek chuckles. "What? No smartass comment?"

"Do you want one?" Stiles asks, smiling a little.

"Well, sometimes I look forward to them, yeah," Derek says with a tiny laugh. A real one. Not a maniacal one, not a smartass one, not even a joking one...just a laugh. And it was nice, pure, and something Stiles wanted to hear again. He sees Derek's eyes dilate and Stiles knows that Derek can sense it; Stiles heart beating faster than it should be, the way it would around a crush, around someone he liked, and Stiles couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. His cheeks get a little warm.

But it's getting dark. Stiles shouldn't be out, especially not after what happened to Isaac last week and why it happened. Stiles's rapidly beating heart slows down and he sees Derek's smile fade, his eyebrows draw together in worry. "Stiles, what's wrong?"

"I..." Stiles says, pausing. "I know who shot Isaac. And...why they shot him."

"Really? Who? Why?"

"Hunters," Stiles says, biting his lip a little harder. "Witch hunters...and because they're after me."

* * *

Scott looked like he was about to explode. Either that, or his head was. Stiles wasn't exactly sure but something deep down told him that he really didn't want to be exactly sure. Scott had been his friend for years, they'd grown up together, told everything to each other...and Stiles had kept something from him. The amount of guilt he felt right now was ten times worse than he had felt when he had stole from his father for the first time.

"You're a witch?" Scott says after Derek explains what's happening to Isaac and Scott and, though he wished against it, Peter, who wasn't so crazy anymore. Jackson and Lydia had neglected to show and seeing as Scott and Allison were no longer dating, Allison wasn't here either. So the five of them just kind of stood around, talked, and then stared. Until, of course, Scott decided to talk. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Sour Wolf wasn't supposed to know either," Stiles says, trying to sound defensive. But it doesn't work like that and Stiles feels even worse. "No one was supposed to know."

"And why couldn't I? I'm your best friend, Stiles."

"Because-"

"Because it works the same way it works for us, doesn't it Stiles?" Peter puts out. Everyone turns to him and Stiles finds himself speechless as a somewhat lecherous, all-knowing grin spreads over Peter's features. "The less one knows, the safer they are. Stiles didn't want you hurt."

Scott scoffs, wrinkling his nose. "A bunch of hunters? Really?" He looks to Derek. "We've kicked hunter ass before. Why can't we do it again?"

"Witch hunters aren't the same as werewolf hunters," Stiles says, looking to Scott. "Werewolf hunters are looking to kill, eradicate, put the tiny spark out before it turns into a giant fire. Witch hunters...are different. They don't want to put out the flame, they want to control it."

"Witch hunters are famous for taking their prey and...conditioning them," Peter hisses. "They give options, unlike werewolf hunters. Live with them or die. They either take the witch, condition it, and turn it into a tracker or...well, the witch gets burned at the stake."

"You're joking, right?" Isaac blurts out, looking to Peter then to Derek. Derek looked just as shocked if not more. "They wouldn't...I mean, burn people? I know that hunters cut werewolves in half but..."

"But what?" Peter asks, his voice cool. Stiles frowns further. He hated Peter, still, even if he wasn't completely nuts now. "Do you really think hunters care? Sure, the Argents may have bent their rules a little but, to be truthful, I wouldn't see us catching another break any time soon."

Derek looks to Peter and has a look so determined on his face Stiles swear he could move mountains just by looking at the damn thing. Stiles feels his chest go tight for a reason he cant explain. "What do we do?" Derek asks and Peter rolls his eyes like the answer is that obvious. And it was, at least, to Stiles. It was a bright neon fucking sign in the middle of the room.

"We kill them," Peter says, "all of them."

* * *

**Okay guys, here's the new chapter. God, I'm sorry it took so long but with everything going on right now...well, I couldn't. Anyone, I have a proposal, a sort of peace offering if you will. **

**I need OC's. At least five to be my witch hunters. Leave a name, age, looks, reason for being a hunter, personality, and a background in my inbox and whoever I like best will get put in the story. You have three options; Leader, Hunter, Tracker. Leader is the leader (duh) and keeps the group in line, hunters are the ones who shoot arrows and capture the witches, trackers are ex-witches who chose to find their own kind instead of get burned. **

**Leave me some, yeah? And I PROMISE WITH ALL MY HEART that I will get the next chapter out asap. I won't be as busy and I will be able to get it done. **

**You have until March 14th, 2013 to audition your OC's for a possible spot. Your name and account will be posted on the starter of the new chapter and the remainder of the story. Also include if you don't mind major injuries/possibly character death on said OC's. **

**Until next time. **

**Send me OC's please? **


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